


refractory period

by slybrunette



Category: Chuck - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-17
Updated: 2010-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slybrunette/pseuds/slybrunette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post ep for "Chuck vs. The Tic Tac". It's not just the game that's unpredictable; it's the players too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	refractory period

He's the first place she goes when she gets back. There's a part of her brain that wants to call it something like habit, but it's not. She wants to check up on him; she needs the satisfaction of knowing that he hasn't lost his mind after losing the only purpose he's ever really known. The game will change all over again with the rise of the sun, when it's just her and Shaw and Chuck to handle things.

The hint of relief in Casey's features when he sees her behind the door probably has more to do with the fact that she _isn't_ Chuck. There is no trouble and Chuck isn't barking up the tree of someone who now has their hands tied. She manages a, "Hey."

He turns away from the door, heading back into his house and leaving her to close the door behind her. He doesn't invite her in because he doesn't have to and he doesn't return her greeting because he rarely does. His back is turned to her and the door clicks into place quietly. "You're back early."

Sarah's eyes fall to the floor. "Yeah."

"Have fun seeing new friends?" He asks, sitting back down in front of the single bonsai tree that he's been nursing. The place looks sparse now, half of his stuff picked over by agents or confiscated. It feels like it could be anyone else's home, some stranger on the street that she's never met.

It's discomfiting. That must be why she tells him, "Actually, I'm thinking of moving there." She hadn't planned on bringing it up to anyone, least of all him, until she knew what she was doing. But he is an impartial party, someone who won't pull her one way or another, and that's what she needs right now. "Relocation. A fresh start, you know." His stare is hard then, and she nods. "Right."

"You tell him yet?"

He means Chuck, that much is obvious. "There's no reason for me to, until I…know."

"Someone's got to protect the Intersect." He points out. She doesn't know if he's hinting that she should stay or if he's saying that anyone else could do the job. Sarah would like to think that he isn't labeling her as replaceable, but there's also that comfort in the ambiguity.

"Chuck's more than just the Intersect," she replies, because if she knows nothing else, she knows that. His mouth twists, loss of identity among the labels, and she takes a step forward. "And you're more than just _Agent_ Casey."

Casey's quick to dismiss the sentiment, the minute it edges on being something backed by emotion. He stands, a shake of his head. "Save it. Bartowski's already been by here."

"I'm not Chuck. I understand how it is – I've lived it longer." Sarah reminds him. He seems to forget their similarities far too quickly, discounting them. He either doesn't want to think that he's anything like her, or doesn't want to think that she's anything like him – it's an important distinction. "And I used to be your partner."

There's a scowl mixed with a grunt, trademark, but he doesn't counter her. He doesn't counter the weight of the statement. He doesn't counter the fact that not so long ago they were trying to kill each other, couldn't trust each other, and now they're on each other's shortlists of people that they _can_ trust. These last few days have more than proved that, after everything.

There's hope in her voice when she adds, "It's not over yet."

"Really?" And there's pure sarcasm in his.

"Stranger things have happened," she decides which, considering the world they live in, really isn't an exaggeration. People lie, switch sides, die, and sometimes even come back. It keeps you on your toes just as much as it wears you out because it's not just the game that's unpredictable, it's also the players.

There is no amount of comfort in his expression, no reassurance. He doesn't suffer from idealism and he probably knows that chances of everything going back to the way that they were are slim. It could be better that way. It could also be so much worse.

She tries for a smile, seeks out the lighthearted. "And hey, if you ever miss fighting someone that isn't a shoplifter, I'm your girl. I can take you."

Casey stops scowling. He isn't smiling but he isn't scowling either. She'd point out that it's a nice change of pace, but that would ruin the moment. He does that all by himself. "DC's a pretty long flight just to kick your ass."

"It may not come to that," she replies, hesitantly.

He raises an eyebrow. "You sounded pretty sure a moment ago."

"Well I guess everyone's a little unsure about what's next." Sarah looks him dead in the eye as she says it. Everything and everyone around them is changing and no one has all the answers. It's all open-ended. She doesn't know if she's staying or going, didn't know when she walked in here, and won't when she walks out.

He doesn't know who he is right now and that's not something that will be helped by her presence or lack thereof.

Equal footing. No amount of co-dependence.

It's why she came here first.

She crosses her arms and the "it'll be okay" that slips out only sounds like it's aimed at him. For all intents and purposes she could be speaking to a mirror as well.

And then she does something stupid. She comes closer to him, under his suspicious gaze and the "Walker?" that serves as an unspoken 'what are you doing?'. When she leans up, presses a kiss to his cheek, she feels his shoulders tense underneath her touch. He doesn't push her away, and when she steps back his face is blank, a mask.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she says, her voice level and calm, like nothing at all had happened – like his expression, all walls firmly in place, like a good agent – and she turns on her heel and leaves, vaguely aware that he echoes the sentiment somewhere between her opening the door and the click it makes as it closes.


End file.
